That night Toby and Abner went to the circus grounds with Uncle Daniel
and Aunt Olive; and when old Ben approached the party, as they were
nearing the tent, Toby motioned the cripple to come with him, for he
thought it might be better that the boy should not hear the conversation
concerning him.
It had been decided by Uncle Daniel that the boys should go to the
circus grounds that evening, and stay there until it was nearly dark,
when they were to go home to bed; for he did not believe in having boys
out after dark, being certain it was better for their health to go to
bed early.
Toby therefore intended to make this visit simply one of farewell. But
first he wanted Abner to see a little more of the bustle and confusion
that had so fascinated him in the afternoon.
To that end the boys walked around the inclosure, listened to the men
who were loudly crying the wonderful things they had for sale, and all
the while kept a bright look-out in the hope of seeing some of their
circus friends.
It was nearly time for the performance to begin when the boys went into
the skeleton's tent, and said good-by to the thin man and his fat wife.
Then Toby, anxious to run around to the dressing-rooms to speak with
Ella, and not daring to take Abner with him, said to the boy:
"Now you wait here for a minute, and I'll be right back."
Abner was perfectly contented to wait; it seemed to him that he would
have been willing to stay there all night, provided the excitement
should continue, and as he leaned against one of the tent ropes, he
gazed around him in perfect delight.
Toby found Ella without much difficulty; but both she and her mother had
so much to say that it was some time before he could leave them to go in
search of Ben.
The old driver was curled up on his wagon, taking "forty winks," as he
called a nap, before starting on the road again.
When Toby awakened him he explained that he would not have taken the
liberty if it had not been for the purpose of saying good-by, and Ben
replied, good-naturedly:
"That's all right, Toby; I should only have been angry with you if you
had let me sleep. I've fixed it with your uncle about that little
cripple; and now, when I get pitched off and killed some of these dark
nights, there'll be one what'll be sorry I'm gone. Be a good boy, Toby;
don't ever do anything you'd be afraid to tell your uncle Dan'l of, and
next year I'll see you again."
Toby wanted to say something; but the old driver had spoken his
farewell, and was evidently determined neither to say nor to hear
anything more, for he crawled up on the box of the wagon again, and
appeared to fall asleep instantly.
Toby stood looking at him a moment, as if trying to make out whether
this sudden sleep was real, or only feigned in order to prevent the
parting from being a sad one; and then he said, as he started toward the
door:
"Well, I thank you over and over again for Mr. Stubbs's brother, even if
you have gone to sleep." Then he went to meet Abner.
When he reached the place where he had left his friend, to his great
surprise he could see nothing of him. There was no possibility that he
could have made any mistake as to the place, for he had left him
standing just behind the skeleton's tent.
Toby ran quickly around the inclosure, asked some of the attendants in
the dressing-room if they had seen a boy on crutches, and then he went
into Mr. Treat's tent. But he could neither hear nor see anything of
Abner, whose complete disappearance was, to say the least, very strange.
Toby was completely bewildered by this event, and for some minutes he
stood looking at the place where he had left his friend, as if he
thought that his eyes must have deceived him, and that the boy was still
there.
There were but few persons around the outside of the tent, those who had
money enough to pay for their admission having gone in, and those who
were penniless having gone home, so that Toby did not find many of whom
to make inquiries. The people belonging to the circus were busily
engaged in making ready for the night's journey, and a number had
gathered around one of the wagons a short distance away. But Toby
thought it useless to ask them for tidings of his missing friend, for
he knew by experience how busy every one connected with the circus was
at that hour.
After he had stood for some time looking helplessly at the tent rope
against which he had seen Abner leaning, he went into the tent again for
the purpose of getting Uncle Daniel to help him in the search. As he was
passing the monkey wagon, however, he saw old Ben--whom he had left
apparently in a heavy sleep--examining his wagon to make sure that
everything was right, and to him he told the story of Abner's strange
disappearance.
"I guess he's gone off with some of the other fellows," said Ben,
thinking the matter of but little importance, but yet going out of the
tent with Toby as he spoke. "Boys are just like eels, an' you never know
where to find 'em after you once let 'em slip through your fingers."
"But Abner promised me he'd stay right here," said Toby.
"Well, some other fellows came along, an' he promised to go with them, I
s'pose."
"But I don't believe Abner would; he'd keep his promise after he made
it."
While they were talking they had gone out of the tent, and Ben started
at once toward the crowd around the wagon, for he knew there was no
reason why so many men should be there when they had work to do
elsewhere.
"Did you go over there to see what was up?" asked the old driver.
"No; I thought they were getting ready to start, an' I could see Abner
wasn't there."
"Something's the matter," muttered the old man, as he quickened his
pace, and Toby, alarmed by the look on his friend's face, hurried on,
hardly daring to breathe.
One look into the wagon around which the men were gathered was
sufficient to show why it was that Abner had not remained by the tent as
he had promised, for he lay in the bottom of the cart, to all
appearances dead, while two of the party were examining him to learn the
extent of his injuries.
[Illustration: "'WHAT IS THE MATTER? HOW DID THIS BOY GET HURT?' ASKED
BEN."]
"What is the matter? How did this boy get hurt?" asked Ben, sternly, as
he leaped upon the wagon, and laid his hand over the injured boy's
heart.
"He was standing there close by the guy ropes when we were getting ready
to let the canvas down. One of the side poles fell and struck him on the
head, or shoulder, I don't know which," replied a man.
"It struck him here on the back of the neck," said one of those who were
examining the boy, as he turned him half over to expose an ugly-looking
wound around which the blood was rapidly settling. "It's a wonder it
didn't kill him."
"He ain't dead, is he?" asked Toby, piteously, as he climbed up on one
of the wheels, and looked over in a frightened way at the little
deformed body that lay so still and lifeless.
"No, he ain't dead," said Ben, who had detected a faint pulsation of the
heart; "but why didn't some of you send for a doctor when it first
happened?"
"We did," replied one of the men. "Some of the village boys were here,
and we started them right off."
Almost as the man spoke, Dr. Abbott, one of the physicians of the town,
drove up, and made his way through the crowd.
Toby, too much alarmed to speak, watched the doctor's every movement as
he made an examination of the wounded boy, and listened to the accounts
the men gave of the way in which the accident had happened.
"His injuries are not necessarily fatal, but they are very dangerous. He
lives at the poor-farm, and should be taken there at once," said the
doctor, after he had made a slight and almost careless examination.
Toby was anxious that the poor boy should be taken to his home rather
than to the comfortless place the doctor had proposed; but he did not
dare make the suggestion before asking Uncle Daniel's consent to it. He
was about to ask them not to move Abner until he could find his uncle,
when Ben whispered something to the doctor that caused him to look at
the old stage-driver in surprise.
"I'll ask Uncle Dan'l to take him home with us," said Toby, as he
slipped down from his high perch, and started toward the tent.
"I'll take care of that," said Ben, as he went toward the tent with him.
"I had just fixed it with your uncle so's he'd take Abner from the
poor-farm an' board him, an' now there's all the more reason why he
should do it. You go back an' stay with Abner, an' I'll bring your uncle
Dan'l out."
Then Toby went back to the wagon, where the poor little cripple still
lay as one dead, while the blood flowed in a tiny stream from one of his
arms, where the physician had opened a vein.
Not understanding the reason for this blood-letting, and supposing that
the crimson now was due to the injuries Abner had received, Toby cried
out in fear; but one of the men explained the case to him, and then he
waited as patiently as possible for the driver's return.
Both Uncle Daniel and Aunt Olive came out with Ben, and within a very
few moments Abner was being carried to the farm-house, in the same wagon
that had taken him there before in company with the skeleton and his
party for that famous dinner.
It frightened Toby still more to see the unconscious boy carried into
the house by Ben and the doctor as though he were already dead; and when
Aunt Olive led them into the best room, where no one had slept since
Uncle Daniel's sister died, it seemed as if every one believed Abner
could not live, or they would not have carried him there.
Toby hardly knew when Ben went away, or whether he said anything before
he left, or, in fact, anything else, so sad and confused was he. He did
not even think about Mr. Stubbs's brother, but remained in one corner of
the room, almost hidden by one of the flowing chintz curtains, until
Uncle Daniel heard him sobbing, and came and led him away.
"There is good reason to hope Abner will recover," said the old man, as
he stroked Toby's hair; "but he is in the keeping of the One who never
errs, and whatsoever He does is good."
Then Uncle Daniel actually kissed the boy, as he told him to go to bed
and go to sleep. Toby went to bed as he was commanded, though it seemed
impossible he should sleep while Abner might be dying.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]